My blog has been, if nothing else these past few months, a great example of how life can sometimes get in the way of doing things that you would really like to be doing. Have I been able to fuck around as much this summer as I would have liked? No. Have I been able to write as much as I planned to this summer? No. What's been getting in the way? Well, there is work, but that isn't really the full story. It is more or less a complication, something that makes me tired and makes it hard to get everything else done that I need to do.
But most recently I've been dealing with something that is arguably one of the toughest situations I've had to deal with recently. It involves me having a place to live.
A few weeks ago I mentioned being happy at having found a roommate to share rent with me and eventually move into a bigger, better apartment with. At first, everything seemed to be going great with the two of us. He was looking for a new job, we were looking at apartments, and I was getting geared up to start handing out resumes of my own soon. It was entirely too good to be true, and I probably should have expected it to all fall apart long before it did. But I think I was too caught up in finally having things going right, and I didn't want to pick it apart and figure out that they weren't actually going right at all.
You see, the guy I was planning to move in with fell in love.
I should explain better: He came home from traveling up north one night at about 2am, and told me that he had found The One. The One being a 24 year old (my then-roommate is 32), who lives with his parents and works as a dishwasher. The One being someone he had only met ten days before. The One being someone he was going to move out of the city to three hours north where he didn't have an apartment or a job or any friends. That's right, he decided he was going to uproot himself, settle down, and marry someone nearly a decade younger than him who he hadn't even known for two weeks. I was more than a little shocked, and I actually spent two hours that night, staying up entirely too late, explaining to him why I reasonably felt he was moving too fast. His only rebuttal was that he wanted to listen to his heart and not his head. It sounded to me like he was listening to his cock more, but he promised not to make any rash choices.
That all happened near the end of June. I started seeing less and less of him, although he kept telling me he was still planning to live with me next year and that he was still applying for jobs in the area.
Then, a little over three weeks ago, he packed some clothes, his laptop, and went north. I haven't seen him since. I tried calling him, but his cell phone has either been disconnected or he changed the number. I've sent him emails, but he hasn't responded to me. I know he is alive because he makes posts on Facebook still. So I know he has internet and he must be getting my messages. He just is choosing not to respond to me.
So last week I found myself stuck having to restart my search for a new apartment for the second time this summer (the first time being when I decided to start looking for two bedroom apartments for the two of us), and with only a month until my lease was up. To say I was panicking inside my head would be smoothing over the truth. I've put out a bunch of emails to people looking to find roommates for the next year, and so far those who have replied have all already found someone. I'm also looking for a single place.
Last Saturday I thought I had found a great place for me. It was about the same size as my current place, much better (no flooding issues and crappy landlords), and a little bit cheaper too. Sadly, I found out on Monday that the apartment had gone to someone else. So today I'm going out again and looking at some more before heading in to work. Fingers crossed that I find something.
Meanwhile, I'm dealing with the fact that I still have to pack my stuff, and my ex-roommates things are all still here. He isn't replying to me at all, and I'm very close to contacting his boyfriend instead. Because like it or not, I do have to leave the morning of September 1st, and I'm not bringing his crap up north for him. He either comes down and gets it, or I'm leaving it on the curb...or something.
I'm trying not to be angry, and I'm trying not to let my disappointment and annoyance take up my life, but it is hard. It can be hard when you rely on someone and they let you down like that. Especially when I still can't believe that he and his boyfriend are destined for the long hall. But hey, I've been wrong before. Not often, though.
Meanwhile, I have fortunately had some distractions from the apartment fears and work. Some from family, many from phone calls with my boy, and my new friend with benefits is really stepping up on the "friend" part of that arrangement--something I'm more than happy about. He and I have been meeting regularly on Sundays almost weekly ever since my roommate situation started breaking down. We've done sex, we've done movies and sex, and most recently we did the just movie thing. I have to admit that it is really nice having someone in my life that I don't have to pretend for, and I don't feel like I have to meet his expectations. So not everything is going completely wrong. I have my light in the dark.
Still, as I'm spending my free time apartment hunting and packing and sleeping, I have to admit that the blog is once again falling to the wayside. I feel terrible about it, especially because sometimes this blog is my only outlet. Believe it or not, I'm actually not this forward about my sex life in person (I'm really shy, if you can imagine). So even my one or two posts a week recently have been very helpful. I'm hoping once all this gets settled I will be picking things back up again. This will be water under the bridge and we can consider it a bad summer.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed on that one.